“Consider it done, sir, and we’ll pick up the entire cost of your trip. We can probably find you a spot on a flight later this afternoon or early this evening. Will that be acceptable?”
“That will almost fully satisfy me. There’s just one more issue on which I’d like at least some assurances that the matter will be examined.”
“And what might that be?” Rancone asked.
“It was shocking when Matthews played back to me private conversations that I had with my best friend in the privacy of his condominium. Then Matthews gloated that my personal finances had been thoroughly examined and he teased me that it was foolish for me to have all my investments in government-insured term deposits. Just how pervasive is American intelligence into our lives?”
“It was felt that you might bring up this issue,” Rancone responded. “That’s why Mr. Zimmerlan was asked to join us. I’ll have him address your concern.”
“What I’m about to say must be kept completely confidential, Mr. Kennedy. Before I proceed, I require your solemn promise on tape not to divulge what I am about to tell you. Are those terms agreeable to you?”
I hesitated for a moment and then answered that I so agreed. Zimmerlan then rephrased my question while recording it and I confirmed that I accepted the terms of confidentiality. He then turned the recording function off and asked Rancone to leave the room.
“Inadvertently, Mr. Kennedy, you have exposed a highly vulnerable anomaly in the American intelligence community. Unbeknownst to virtually anyone except perhaps President Obama himself and a couple of his highest level advisors, the National Security Agency has not been the sole collector of meta-data at home and abroad. The Department of Homeland Security has also been independently accumulating such data and in fact has devised a method of listening in on conversations taking place not directly on a telephone or hand-held device, but anywhere within about twenty feet of such devices. That capability was not shared with the NSA or with any other government entity. As you also shockingly discovered, Special Agent Matthews at Homeland Security also invented a system of retrieving specific data quickly and efficiently. You can be proud that your bizarre involvement in the Haddad kidnapping has inadvertently exposed this inordinately intrusive development in our ability to spy effectively on our citizens and those of other countries.”
“Will anything be done to prevent it?” I asked.
“That’s not my decision to make, Mr. Kennedy. Although the capability has now been publicized, The Capitol Independent is a very minor media outlet. It is possible that the matter will begin to come under much greater scrutiny because of that one piece. There won’t be any follow-up stories any time soon in the media, however. That single article will be the only opportunity for others to read about the new surveillance capability in the press. It’s not a private world that we live in any longer, Mr. Kennedy.”
“That’s a very evasive answer, Mr. Zimmerlan. Can you tell me whether your government will stop employing this new and decidedly more invasive technology now that its existence has been exposed?”
“Strictly between you and me, Mr. Kennedy, I truly can’t say whether my government will terminate use of this recording capability or exploit it. Ruefully, my educated guess is that the temptations to develop and improve the technology will be too great for the powers that be to resist.”
“They could be listening in on our conversation right now,” I complained. “It’s a very scary thought.”
“Like you, Mr. Kennedy, I’m only an attorney and I have virtually no input in such high-level decisions. Let’s summon the other gentlemen back and we can see to your amended travel arrangements.”
Mr. Rancone came back in the room along with the General who formally released me from custody.
Rancone booked me on a five o’clock flight to Las Vegas and also arranged for my stay at the Four Queens for the next four nights. He confirmed that the American government had picked up the tab for both items.
My belongings were all returned and I was provided with a ride back to Washington Dulles International Airport.
CHAPTER 21 (A Detour into Weirdsville)
There was no difficulty in obtaining my Boarding Pass, and the flight left right on time.
At seven-thirty Las Vegas time the plane touched down.
I caught a Bell Trans shuttle to the downtown area and forty minutes later I was checking into the Four Queens. I asked for a room in the south tower and was given Room 812.
After unpacking, I went downstairs and consumed a meat-lover’s pizza and two huge mugs of Old Town Brown dark draft ale at Magnolia’s, my favorite restaurant in Las Vegas.
After supper I walked around the Fremont Street Experience and watched the overhead light show at ten o’clock.
Not quite ready to call it a night, I thought I’d try my luck on the slots for an hour or so. I had all my casino player’s cards in my pocket and headed into the Golden Nugget.
My favorite type of slot was a game called Caveman Keno but the dozen or so machines at the Nugget carrying that game had been removed since my last trip here.
I found a penny denomination machine that looked like a bit of fun and sat down. I inserted my player’s card into the machine along with a five dollar bill.
A few minutes later my Vegas vacation took a detour into Weirdsville.
Two well-dressed casino employees came up to my machine and requested that I show them my Golden Nugget player’s card and some picture identification.
I pulled the card out of the machine and handed it to the fellow along with my Ontario driver’s license.
“Have I won some sort of random spot prize?” I asked naively.
“No, sir, I’m sorry but we needed to verify your identification. The casino is confiscating your card immediately. You are no longer welcome in this establishment.”
“May I ask what this is all about?” I inquired politely.
“Our computers show that you’ve been blacklisted from our casino, sir. We’ll escort you to the cashier’s wicket so that you may cash out your slot ticket.”
“There must be a mistake. I only play the smaller denomination slot machines, and I haven’t even been to Las Vegas in a couple of years. It’s not possible that I’ve been blacklisted. Can I accompany you upstairs and have you double-check your information?”
“We’re sorry, sir but at this late hour there’s no one available to validate the matter. Our security computer flagged you as having been blacklisted as soon as your card was inserted in the slot machine, and we have to abide by that directive. You can contact the casino security office during office hours tomorrow to obtain more particulars if you wish.”
The men escorted me to the cashier’s cage where I redeemed my ticket for $2.25. It was hardly worth the trip and I felt quite embarrassed by the incident. The gentlemen then walked me right to the front door and made sure that I left the building.
The night went downhill from there.
When I got to my room in the Four Queens, my electronic key wouldn’t work.
Back down to the main floor I trundled and went to the hotel registration desk.
“I’m in Room 812 but my key won’t work,” I complained to the desk clerk.
He checked his computer and immediately tensed up.
“Let me just call security, sir and they can look after you.”
Within minutes two uniformed and armed security guards appeared.
The clerk showed them whatever warning had shown up on the security screen and immediately both guards unsnapped their holsters and drew their guns.
“Call the Las Vegas police, Cyril,” one of the guards said to the desk clerk. “We’ll take Mr. Kennedy to the main security office and the police can meet us there.”
“What’s going on?” I moaned. “I just got kicked out of the Golden Nugget because their computer showed that I had been blacklisted, and now your system has gone haywire and flagged me for something even more serious. I’m a retired law
yer from Canada and I demand to be told what dire warning your computer incorrectly contains about me.”
“We’ll answer your questions, sir, but not here. Please don’t be alarmed, but my partner is going to have to secure you in handcuffs before we can move you.”
That guard was actually pointing his revolver at me so I put my hands behind my back and felt the cuffs being tightened on my wrists. Other guests were gawking at us, no doubt wondering what sort of vile casino cheat the cops had just nabbed.
The guards led me through a small portion of the casino to their office near the casino’s cashier wickets.
They kept me shackled.
“Okay, we’re secure in here,” I began. “Now please tell me what the screen says and between us and the Vegas police, we can determine whether this is all one big mistake.”
“I’ll leave that decision up to our supervisor,” the older of the two guards replied, and he tapped on a nearby door. A buzzer sounded and the guard was then able to open the door and summon his boss.
A very distinguished fellow came out of the office and approached me. The guard explained to this gentleman what had occurred and that I was demanding to know the details of the warning.
The supervisor tapped away on the computer screen and then he too tensed up and looked most concerned.
“I believe it would be prudent to wait until the Las Vegas police arrive,” he said as he drew his own gun and ordered me to take a seat in the corner of the room away from the guards.
We didn’t wait long until the city cops, three of them, were ushered into the security office a few moments later.
The supervisor briefly related what had happened since I had appeared at the front desk. He permitted the police officers to read the computer screen.
The officer in charge immediately got on his cell phone and called his chief.
“It’s Sergeant Davy here sir. The casino security at the Four Queens has apprehended a wanted international terrorist. I’m now on site with two younger officers but I’m uncertain as to how to proceed. Do we bring him in to the precinct or do we remain here and contact one of the federal agencies to come and get him?”
I couldn’t hear the response but at least I now had some idea what the fuss was all about.
“This is nothing but a high-level prank,” I snarled. “I’m a retired lawyer from Canada. Before you send every armed cop in the state here to deal with me, can I persuade you to contact some people at Homeland Security in Washington? I want to go upstairs and get some damn sleep.”
The Vegas cop repeated my remarks to his chief.
The next thing I knew the officer had his cell phone at my ear so that I could speak directly with the police chief.
“Hello, sir, my name is Thomas Kennedy and I’m a retired lawyer from Canada. Homeland Security has booked and paid for both my flight here earlier today and my room at the Four Queens for the next four nights. I can give you the names of my high level contacts at Homeland in Washington and you can verify that this terror message has been placed in the computer systems as a mean-spirited prank, probably by the Special Agent who just lost his job because of his improper dealing with me over the past few days. Your department can avoid a shitload of embarrassment by confirming my situation before you call in the entire US military.”
Fortunately the Chief was a reasonable man and I gave him the name of General Piorkowski as well as Peter Rancone, the Homeland Security attorney.
Thirty-five minutes later I was on a conference call with both gentlemen.
I explained what had occurred firstly in the Golden Nugget casino and later at the Four Queens reception desk.
“It must be Matthews”, the General opined. “He’s got his doctorate in computer science. There’s no telling what other surprises he has in store for you, Mr. Kennedy. I’m sorry but it’s my opinion that we should get you home to Canada as soon as possible before you get hurt. Are you willing to cut your vacation short?”
“Sure, I know when I’m out of my league. Three of the police officers here in the room with me right now have their guns drawn and directed at me while I’m speaking with you. They must think I’m Jason Bourne or something and that I’m about to kill them all in order to effect my escape. I’ll fly home tomorrow if you can make the arrangements, but I’d like to stay here at the Four Queens tonight. I’m exhausted and a hangover is already beginning to take hold.”
“That’s acceptable. Put the Chief back on and I’ll reassure him that this is all a mistake.”
Ten minutes later the cuffs were removed and I was taken back to the reception desk and issued another key.
It was now two o’clock in the morning and despite the bizarre twists of this evening, I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
CHAPTER 22 (More Dirty Tricks)
The phone startled me awake at eight o’clock on Friday morning.
It was General Piorkowski’s assistant advising that they had booked me on a flight leaving for Chicago at noon with a connection on to Syracuse where I would arrive at eleven-thirty New York time.
I quickly showered, dressed and packed my sports bag. Since time was a bit short, I checked out of the Four Queens with no difficulty since the room had been paid for and I hadn’t incurred any additional charges. There was a long line-up at Magnolia’s so I grabbed breakfast at McDonald’s in The D Casino and then walked around to the rear of the Golden Nugget where I managed to catch a shuttle to the airport.
When my turn in line came up at the United ticket counter, the first glitch of the day occurred.
According to the airline computer, my ticket had been booked several hours ago but had been cancelled within the last hour.
To make matters even more complicated, as soon as the attendant swiped my passport in her machine, my name had just been added to the “DO NOT FLY” list. That unwelcome development meant that I was again taken into custody, this time by airport security.
A call to the General’s assistant was all it took to straighten up the matter and get rebooked on the flight.
I was permitted to speak with the assistant, a woman by the name of Lieutenant Anne Burgess, and I registered my displeasure with the whole scenario.
“Can’t you people get Special Agent Matthews off his damn computer so that he can’t hit me with any more of these nasty surprises? I’m sick of getting detained by every different type of cop in America.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Kennedy, but we don’t know for sure whether he’s even the one causing these problems. We’re doing everything humanly possible to undo whatever false messages the perpetrator is posting.”
“Am I ever going to make it back to Canada, Lieutenant Burgess?”
“We’ll certainly do whatever we can to get you home safely, Mr. Kennedy. I’ll give you my direct cell number. Please call me if another glitch develops. Good luck.”
I was permitted to go through airport security where I made my way to the departure gate.
While waiting for the flight I couldn’t think of anything other than Matthews and his bag of dirty tricks.
An idea for a bit of revenge began to ferment and I went into one of the shops and purchased a disposable cell phone with $20 of long distance included.
My first call was to Lieutenant Burgess. Fortunately she answered her cell even though she had no way of knowing who was calling.
“Hello, Lieutenant; this is the gentleman to whom you were recently speaking. I won’t say my name on this line just in case doing so would trigger that other person to monitor the call. I’ve devised a plan to entrap the gentleman whom I believe is annoying me. To carry out my strategy, I need you to provide me with that other gentleman’s direct cell number but please don’t read off the numbers all at once. State one number and then say some words, then the second number, more words and so on. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes. Just one moment while I look up the information you require, sir.”
Ms. Burgess provided me with M
atthews’ direct cell number in the manner I requested.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m going to call the fellow in question and taunt him that I’m far too clever for his shallow ruses to be successful. I suspect that doing so will rile him up and spur him on to devise more impediments to my safe return home. I’m hoping that your agency will be able to monitor my call to him and his subsequent calls and thereby catch him in the act of sabotaging me. Does that sound like something you’ll be able to accomplish?”
“I’ll have to run it by my boss so can you wait thirty minutes before you make the call. Prior to making that call, dial my direct cell again and if I answer ‘Bonjour’, then it’s a go. You can simply hang up without saying anything. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” I replied as I terminated the call.
Half an hour later I heard Burgess answer “Bonjour” when I called her back.
I then called Special Agent Matthews’ direct cell.
“Special Agent Harlan D. Matthews,” he answered. “To whom am I speaking?”
“You’re speaking to your intellectual superior, Matthews. Haven’t I already proven to you that I’m miles more intelligent than you? There’s no way a mere Ph.D. in computer science can compete on the same level as an experienced attorney. I bet you’re the laughing stock around the office after letting that pretty little prostitute bamboozle you and sneak my letter off to the press hidden in her boobs. By the way, I hear they’re making you take immediate retirement. What a shame! I told you that you were picking on the wrong lawyer. Now don’t try any more of your infantile pranks on me or I’ll humiliate you even worse than I’ve already done. Enjoy your new found leisure time, dickhead. You’ve lost to the better man.”
I hung up before Matthews could respond.
If my little tirade didn’t piss him off totally, then I had no more of my own tricks up my sleeve. My only hope was that a jerk like Matthews couldn’t resist responding to my taunts.
The Wrong Lawyer Page 10